"Is the spot far from here ?" "A hundred leagues." "It is not ill-planned," said the governor.

"If all the prisoners took it into their heads to travel a hundred leagues, and their guardians consented to accompany them, they would have a capital chance of escaping." "The scheme is well known," said the inspector; "and the abbe's plan has not even the merit of originality." Then turning to Faria--"I inquired if you are well fed ?" said he.
"Swear to me," replied Faria, "to free me if what I tell you prove true, and I will stay here while you go to the spot." "Are you well fed ?" repeated the inspector.
"Monsieur, you run no risk, for, as I told you, I will stay here; so there is no chance of my escaping." "You do not reply to my question," replied the inspector impatiently.
"Nor you to mine," cried the abbe.

"You will not accept my gold; I will keep it for myself.

You refuse me my liberty; God will give it me." And the abbe, casting away his coverlet, resumed his place, and continued his calculations.
"What is he doing there ?" said the inspector.
"Counting his treasures," replied the governor.
Faria replied to this sarcasm with a glance of profound contempt.

They went out.